


Victor of the 67th Annual Hunger Games

by bubblewrapstargirl



Series: SPN-HG fusion [1]
Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Merlin (TV), Supernatural, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-08 02:31:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblewrapstargirl/pseuds/bubblewrapstargirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one knows why Dean Winchester finally agrees to mentor for the 62nd Games.</p><p>[ON HIATUS]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Victor of the 67th Annual Hunger Games

No one knows why Dean Winchester finally agrees to mentor for the 62nd Games. The Capitol is thrilled to have him, and there are plenty of interviews and magazine spreads. Caesar Flickerman loves a happy ending, and more importantly, he knows how to get other people to love what he loves. Dean is charming, accommodating; better yet, he's unapologetic. Brutally honest about his time in the Games. He's a Career wrapped in hick's clothing, and the Capitol laps it up.

"You brought such honour to your District in the 57th. And now you're a settled, family man! They must be so proud of you." Caesar gushes.

"I can't complain. I love my District; I'm very pleased to be considered a suitable mentor." Dean's smile is coy, but his eyes flash with something rather less pleasant.

In District 9, Castiel's lips press together in a firm, white line as he watches Dean's interview. He brushes Adam's hair back from his face, blonde locks falling neatly into place with every sweep of the comb.

*

There were only two other inhabitants of Victor's Village in District 9 when Dean and his family moved into their new house. Bobby Singer, an ornery old drunk who'd been a good friend of his father; and Pamela Barnes, who'd welcomed new neighbours with gusto, and played loud music to drown out her screams.  
  
Dean understood why she'd been so enthusiastic at his arrival, after only a week or two. Though he'd been given enough money to keep Cas and Sam safe and comfortable, which is all he'd ever wanted, the general people of District 9 no longer met Dean's eyes when they spoke. Rooms hushed when he entered, and children shied away from him. Kate Miligan even crossed to the other side of the path to avoid him. When he tried to give her food for Adam she refused it; even though it was an open secret Adam was John's son and therefore family.

(If she hadn't died of the Red Fever the year following after he won the Games, Dean doubted he'd have gotten to see Adam at all.)

*

The other mentors are wary of Dean. The Capitol puts on a fancy lunch buffet, with frills everywhere and a sickening amount of those itty bitty little finger-foods you can eat in one bite. The ones who've been mentoring since Dean was a child are already bunched together, yammering at high speed.

Dean ignores everyone and fills up a plate with mini cheeseburgers and a good helping of fries. Pam is around here somewhere, drinking white liqour straight from the bottle; last Dean saw of her, she was grumbling about needing to find 'that asshole Haymitch'.

To the inattentive eye, Dean appears thoroughly invested in his meal; but his ears are open and his peripheral vision always alert.  So he knows when the strange Victor is approaching him... but he is not prepared.

"Buenos dias, Hunter!"

The Victor is a male, in his late twenties with thickly muscled arms, a nose that has obviously been broken, and a frankly absurd hairstyle. To top it off, he's wearing what can only be described as a goddamn cape. Dean can only stare. Capitol people are one thing; like dolls, with their perverse alterations and ridiculous clothing. But Victors, though they dress (and eat) well, can generally be described as 'unadventurous' in their lifestyle choices. Drinking themselves into oblivion or floating away on morphling seems to be the remit of Victors; silly outfits are for the sons of bitches at home in the Capitol.

"I'm Ash." The Victor is either unaware of the glare Dean is leveling him, or he just doesn't care. "3, winner of 49. You seen Pamela, 9, winner of 43 round here? Woman stole my favourite pair of boots."

Dean gestures vaguely in the direction he'd come from with a fry. Ash from 3 grins, swishing his shiny gold cloak and taking off, yelling "Muchas gracias!" over his shoulder as he goes. Dean barely blinks in his direction, instead burying himself back in his food.

He eventually settles in an armchair by a tall glass window; this being the Captiol, the view is magnificent; shiny buildings give way to the gigantic lake, and the forests and mountains stretch out as far as the eye can see. He imagines he's getting a glimpse of District 1 out there in the distance, and it makes him feel a step closer to home.

The next interruption is not quite so benign. A Victor deposits himself in the seat opposite from Dean and declares; "You killed my kid."

Dean meets his gaze solidly. This man is obviously trying to blend in with Capitol society; he's wearing a white and gold monstrocity, to match his golden blonde hair and bright yellow eyes.

Dean saw all the families of the other tributes during his Victory tour. He wouldn't have forgotten this guy; with his cruel grin and his freaky eyes, so what it he's trying to pull? If he's trying to set Dean on edge, Dean certainly isn't going to give him the satisfaction of showing it.The man barks a laugh; his teeth are large and sharp. "Always so reticent, 9! It was like Flickerman was tryin' to pull teeth in your interviews. I remember."

Dean takes a sip of his drink. It's brown and alcoholic and it tastes like fruit.  
  
"My tribute, Meg. The girl whose neck you snapped? Perfectly executed, by the way. I almost wasn't mad at you for it. She was always too arrogant; blindly charging in." He sighs, steepling his fingers together. "And how are you finding the Capitol, 9? There's some very pretty things on offer. Have you been enjoying the pretty things?"

Dean's smile is slow and dangerous.

"I'm afraid I'm a man with simple tastes. Good food, a good drink, a good fuck; and I'm done."  
  
"But that's the great thing about being a mentor- you make them love you, and they _really_ love you. And everybody at home... well, they're just glad you're home."

Dean says nothing, and the man laughs again; it's like a bark, and it grates on Dean's nerves like nothing before.  
  
"You let me know when you want to sample something a little more delicate than home-grown goods, 9."

Then he's gone, and Dean takes a deep drink, swallowing the rest of it. The sweetness of the fruit does nothing to distract him from the bitter taste in his mouth.

 *

 


End file.
